Outside the rain begins

A drizzle and occasional large drops of rain which fell few and far between -- who would think big of it? Definitely not me. Do I bring out my umbrella? Nah, I thought, as I stepped out of Ministop. Too much effort. So that's how it was until I reached the station.

Down at the platform, the air was thick with something that felt heavy and weird. Weirder still was the fact that I could easily count the people waiting for the familiar rumble of metal against metal. At 6:50 p.m.? Now this was definitely one for the books.

The trip was uneventful. Except for the booming clap of thunder midway through the ride which startled and woke me up from my pseudoslumber. I could imagine the folks around looking at me, some perhaps trying to conceal laughter at the spectacle of someone suddenly and involuntarily throwing his arms sideways out of surprise. To which I responded: Fuck off, douchebags!

Getting off, it was mayhem. Five million Filipinos were waiting past the turnstiles, hoping the downpour would stop soon. Twelve million others were on the stairs trying to get out of that hellhole, patient ones with umbrellas and assholes without. It took a good half-hour to get from the top of the stairs to the foot. And the bedlam didn't end there.

As the rain flooded a good part of the metropolis, one could see fewer and fewer vehicles traversing the road -- including buses. No problem, I'll just wait it out. There's no hurry to get home, and no place to go to either. So wait it out I did, with Ely Buendia in my mind bellowing how he's drinking his beer and watching his tears going southbound.

Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Then thirty. Still waiting there. Holy crap, is it armageddon already? Then I decided to walk away. In the hard, drenching rain. Where to? I don't know, maybe anywhere. So long as I'm doing something, even if my umbrella had a couple of holes on it.

The long, hard trek followed. Commuters thinned out as I went. Ely was still singing, even if I wasn't waiting for a goddamn bus anymore. But who was I to complain? Sure, my shoes and feet got wet. But it felt nice to be walking out in the rain once more.

Puerile underestimated traitor aborigine

Whatever semblance of common sense Oliver Lozano had has been torpedoed down by his utter lack of it. Defending the gimmick of one of his party’s “senatoriables” of using the name Peter despite the very obvious attempt to ride on Alan Peter Cayetano’s popularity, Lozano said:

“Everyone is free to use a name, whether it is Peter or Jojo. You can even use Gestapo.”

Really? That’s great because now, I have the perfect ploy to get filthy rich. I’d go to Recto, buy diplomas and business cards bearing the name Oliver Lozano, and engage in every illegal get-quick-rich scheme there is. And when the cops attempt to haul my wealthy ass to jail, I’ll just say, “Sorry dudes, you got the wrong guy.”

Funny how Lozano himself never had this idea when his beloved strongman was still in power.

***

Everyone’s favorite censor is back. Discontented with just yakking it out with Maggie dela Riva, Tita Manoling Morato is now appealing on everyone not to vote for “immoral” candidates, particularly Loren Legarda, who has two failed marriages.

Now, now Tita, aren’t you a bit too harsh? When you ran for president nine years ago, 19,770 people put their trust in you. This despite the fact that you never married and didn’t follow God’s admonition to “go forth and multiply”, and are gay (a very immoral trait, if you go by the Bible). Besides, you were also chairman of the PCSO, the government’s gambling arm. And gambling is a very, very bad deed, don’t you agree?

I suggest you go easy on this immorality thing. Did it ever occur to you that the reason you never won in any election is because you’re dumbassedly moral?

The search engine formerly known as Google

This is Google’s Valentine-inspired logo. And there’s something tantalizingly unusual about it. Past Google Doodles focused on the symbols characterizing the holiday or event being celebrated. You know, the basic stuff. But this one somehow (to quote Emeril Lagasse) kicks it up a notch. We all know it’s Valentine’s Day, so why just stop at love when you can have passion as well? Why be content with that ticklish feeling when you can be erotic? Why just feel love when you can make love?

A 194-decibel golf clap to you, Dennis Hwang. If I were a girl, I’d gladly dance naked around you and let you draw doodles on my thighs, tummy and neck. But since I’m a guy, I’ll just sincerely hope you had some -- good ones -- last night, my man. (Although I must say you were a bit too hard on the yellow O.)

=====
ADDENDUM: Apparently, not a few people consider the Valentine-themed logo spelled wrongly and confusing. I see their point.

Dennis is right in saying “those with true romance and poetry in their soul will see the subtlety immediately.” I consider myself lucky.

Poetry grieving

A Pity, We Were Such A Good Invention
Yehuda Amichai

They amputated
Your thighs off my hips.
As far as I'm concerned
They are all surgeons. All of them.

They dismantled us
Each from the other.
As far as I'm concerned
They are all engineers. All of them.

A pity. We were such a good
And loving invention.
An aeroplane made from a man and wife.
Wings and everything.
We hovered a little above the earth.

We even flew a little.

Translated by Assia Gutmann

For a thousand summers...

I consider Futurama to be one of the best animated series ever created. Not only is it funny, but it's intelligent as well. It's a uniquely tasty departure from two other cartoon series I hold in high regard -- The Simpsons and South Park -- both of which are injected with a significant amount of sarcasm and satire. What Futurama lacks in those two departments, it makes up for one quality that is not a hallmark of American animation: its propensity to make viewers cry.

Yes, cry.

Or, if your black heart is that stone-cold, sad.

Here's one clip that never fails to make me stuffy-nosed. This comes from the episode Jurassic Bark, which is possibly the most poignant in the series. (I'd describe the context of the clip myself, but Wikipedia probably does it much better than I could.) I still remember watching this episode for the very first time on Studio 23 back in 2003, and how my left eye let loose a tear as Connie Francis was singing the last few strains of the song. I Will Wait For You is just so... apt.